


Super Dad and Brother

by serafina20



Series: Inevitable [16]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:57:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lincoln cleans up his mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Dad and Brother

Breakfast was a silent affair for Lincoln. He didn't much feel like talking after his confrontation with Alex. He hadn't felt much like anything, truth to tell. If LJ hadn't stepped out of his room as Lincoln had passed, he might have forgotten to take his own son to breakfast.

LJ had long since given up trying to talk to Lincoln. He, too, was off in his own world now, gazing at the ocean and the pretty girls in bikinis. And, probably, the pretty boys, too.

Self-reflection, contemplation, and introspection didn't come naturally to Lincoln. He wasn't a stupid man by any means. No, he wasn't anywhere near the genius of Michael, but he wasn't stupid. Lincoln knew he was smart. Resourceful. Fairly quick on his feet.

But he wasn't much into sitting around and thinking. He was a doer. He did things. Mom died, he went out and found a way to keep his family together. Got emancipated. Got a job. Raised Michael. Never allowed himself to really think about the direction of his life. He never stopped moving, not for a second.

The thing was, Lincoln was always afraid of being alone with his thoughts. If he ever had to stop and think, he'd see all the things he was doing wrong. How he was fucking Michael up. Sweet, innocent, too smart for his own damn good Michael. And the older Michael got, the more Lincoln could see he was fucking the kid up. First, Michael was coming home from school with black eyes and bloody noses. Then his teachers started suggesting Michael might be autistic, concerned with the way he got fixated on these teeny tiny details and unable to move on to the big picture. And that had meant to trips to the therapist and more money problems. More stress.

It'd been too much. Lincoln couldn't think. Didn't want to have to deal with too much reality. And that was his life. Too much reality. So. Drugs. Alcohol. Sex. Anything to make the thinking stop.

It wasn't until prison--the last time--that he'd ever really been forced to stop. Think. Mull. Be introspective. It'd been a new experience and Lincoln knew that he was not the same man he'd been when Michael was a kid.

He must have been a real bastard back then. For Michael to have to lie so much. About everything. About losing his virginity. Christ! What a stupid, senseless thing to lie about, to your brother, no less. And what kind of person must Lincoln have been that Michael felt it was necessary?

All those years. All those years of working himself to the bone, trying to make the best life he could for Michael, and Lincoln barely knew him. Didn't even know his own brother, while Alexander Mahone...

Well. He knew too damn much. And Lincoln couldn't help but be envious that this man had broken through the wall of protection Michael had guarded himself behind so tightly.

But, then, maybe Lincoln had kept himself guarded as well. It was so much easier to act oblivious, act like he didn't see... until he didn't see.

He stirred.

"So," he said, drawing LJ's attention back to him. "You and Chris. Is it serious?"

LJ blinked at him. "Uh. What?"

"That boy you're with. Is it serious."

His son gaped at him for a moment. Then he sat up straighter. Wrapped his hand around his coffee cup. "Um, not really. I mean, sorta. I don't know."

"Are you sleeping with him?"

"Dad!"

"I'm just worried about you being safe. That's all."

LJ was blushing furiously, looking down. Hair hung over his eyes. "We haven't done anything, really. Just made out and stuff."

"You have condoms?"

"Dad!"

"Is he why you pierced your tongue? And the make-up?"

"No. I'm just... doing stuff, that's all." He looked back up. "I really like Chris, though. He's not an experiment. The rest of it is. I don't know. Just to see what it's like." LJ toyed with the tongue stud, then asked, "What's bringing this whole thing on? I've been dating Chris for, like five months. Why now?"

Lincoln rubbed his eyes. "Your uncle Alex," he bit out. "He said you were going crazy because I wasn't acknowledging it. Why did you say anything?"

"Dad, you caught me making out with him! I've been telling you that I'm doing stuff with the school's Gay and Lesbian center at school. I told you I thought that one actor, Jensen Ackles? Was totally hot. What more invitation did you need to talk to me about it?"

"I just thought if being gay were really something you wanted to discuss with me, you'd actually discuss it. Tell me. I thought you were embarrassed."

"Dad, you were embarrassed. And, admit it. There's this part of you that's sitting there wondering if I'm this way because of what happened to me."

Lincoln blinked and shook his head in denial immediately. "Of course not. I'd never think that."

LJ's lower lip extended. His jaw trembled. "Yes you are. You think I don't wonder? Like, maybe if that freak hadn't done that stuff? Made me do that stuff, I'd have a girlfriend right now instead of a... Chris."

"Would you rather have a girlfriend?" Lincoln asked, voice steady and nonjudgmental, just like the therapist had coached.

He wiped his nose on the back of his hand. "No. But at least then I'd be normal."

"You are normal, LJ. You're a normal, nineteen year old kid who met someone that makes him happy. That's all that matters to me. He does make you happy, right?"

LJ's smile was crooked. "Yeah. I used to think that, as soon as I graduated, I wanted to move here. Do nothing. Just hide with Uncle Mike for the rest of my life. I don't think I want that any more. I want to do stuff, you know?"

"That's good, LJ. That's real good." Lincoln reached across the table and took LJ's chin in his hand. Tilting his head up so Lincoln could meet his eyes, he said, "LJ, who you love doesn't matter to me. As long as they treat you right and you're happy, I don't care if they're a boy, a girl, a transsexual or what." He squeezed LJ's face gently. "And anyone who makes you want to face life rather than run away has got to be pretty special." Lincoln smiled. "I'm proud of you. I love you no matter what."

LJ's smile was wobbly, but genuine. "I love you too, Dad."

* * *

He was one for one. Tackled one elephant in the room, time to go on to the next.

The mysterious one he called brother.

When he got back to the house, Alex and Michael were up, thank God, and sitting outside on the porch. Michael was reading a book, stretched across a dilapidated couch, his feet in Alex's lap. Alex had a newspaper resting on a table next to the couch, a pen in one hand, the other caressing Michael's bare feet. When Lincoln got closer, he could see Alex was doing some kind of word puzzle.

He hated all this evidence that Michael and Alex were perfect for each other. Made his deeply ingrained dislike for the man seem petty and small.

"Morning." Lincoln sat in a chair.

Michael closed his book. "Hey. Where's LJ?"

"The beach. Said he wanted to get some surfing in while the conditions were right."

"You have a good breakfast?"

He nodded. "Yeah. We did." Lincoln cleared his throat. Looked at Alex. "May I... talk to Michael alone for a minute?"

Alex picked up his paper. "No problem. I'll be upstairs." He leaned over and kissed Michael.

Michael's cheeks bloomed. He sat up, following Alex. Kissed him again.

Damn kid was glowing.

Before he disappeared inside, Alex shot Lincoln a warning look. Lincoln stared impassively back. Michael was his brother; he deserved time alone with him. He wasn't going to feel guilty about that.

"So." Michael leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. He was looking at his feet. "What do you want to talk about?" His voice was heavy. Thick. The way it got when he was unhappy about something. Afraid of getting in trouble or disappointing someone.

"Alex showed me your pictures," Lincoln said. He'd been turning over in his head all morning how to approach this. This was the best he could come up with.

Michael blanched. "Which ones?"

Oh. Michael had been drawing him again. Lincoln would never forget when Michael was fifteen. They'd gotten in a fight over... something. And Michael had drawn some pictures that depicted Lincoln in rather horrific roles. When Lincoln had found them, he'd been so mortified, the kid had all but punished himself.

Lincoln, once he'd gotten over the stain of hurt he'd felt, had found it rather amusing. If Michael had been the kind of brother you could tease about such things, Lincoln would still be teasing him about it. Instead, it looked like Michael was ready to flagellate himself anew.

"The ones you've been drawing since we've been going out," he clarified. "Of women tearing you apart and such." He leaned forward. "Why didn't you tell me you were so miserable going out?"

Michael shrugged. "I thought that maybe me getting sick that first night would clue you in."

"That's why I suggested drinking. To help relax you." He rubbed his hand over his hair. "But it just makes you sick, huh? Has alcohol always affected you like this?"

He still wasn't looking at him. "Sort of. I mean, it depends. The more tense I am, the worse it is. I just get trapped in my head, cycling through all these... nonsensical thoughts." Eyes flashed to Lincoln, then away. "Remember when I turned eighteen? And after the party, you, me, and Veronica got amazingly drunk?"

"Yeah."

"After you and V went to bed, I was still out there. And I couldn't stop staring at the bookshelf. I was totally trapped by it. How it was put together. The way the seams came together. The height. Length. The weight of the books. How the wood was able to support the weight. The color. The grains. The binding on the books. Just... everything. All night. And I couldn't stop. I was too drunk. Too out of control."

"Jesus." Lincoln rubbed his hand over his face. "Why didn't you ever say anything to me?"

Michael shrugged. "I handled it on my own. I just.. stopped drinking like that. I'm with one drink. Sometimes two, depending on how much I've eaten and how frequently I drink. So I cut myself off. You didn't need to worry about it."

"Until now. Jesus, Michael, I've been forcing you to drink all week. Why didn't you just say no?"

His lower lip trembled. "I've already disappointed you so much."

"No." Lincoln moved to sit next to Michael. "No, you haven't disappointed me. I'm worried about you, but I'm not disappointed." He put his hand on Michael's leg. "I just wish that you hadn't felt like you needed to lie to me all these years."

"You wouldn't have understood."

Lincoln sighed. "Maybe you're right," he said. "But I understand now. And I need you to stop lying to me." He squeezed Michael's knee. "So. No more going to bars. No more drinking. And if Alex is the one who makes you happy, then okay. I'll stop being an ass about it. But, Michael. He does make you happy, right?"

Michael looked at him, eyes soft, open. Shining. "Yeah," he said. "He does."

Figured.

He sighed. Nodded. "Then I'll stop being such an ass. It's the least I can do, I guess. I mean, you did break me out of prison." He gave Michael a lopsided smile. "I guess I owe you something."

Michael laughed and bumped shoulders with him. "Thanks, Linc. And, for the record, it was worth it."

Lincoln doubted that. But he resolved, once again, to spend his life making sure it was.


End file.
